


The Internship

by lorpor9



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossover, M/M, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 04:27:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorpor9/pseuds/lorpor9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being offered a chance to apply for an internship at stark industries was something he had never even dreamed of, but being offered a chance to work directly under The Tony Stark, well that just didn't happen. But if he did get it, it would mean he would have to move to New York, leave Scott and Lydia, leave his dad all alone, leave Derek...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this may or may not be (very much) inspired by the movie of the same title...

The envelope had been laying out on table when Stiles arrived home from school under a pile of bills and college letters and junk magazines. He immediately spotted the logo on the outside and grabbed for it. This was it, what he had been waiting for for months. The contents of this envelop had the power to decide his fate. He stood by over the table, clutching the sturdy card stock. He couldn't bring himself to open it.

If the letter said no, if he didn't get the internship, he would be devastated. Being offered a chance to apply for an internship at stark industries was something he had never even dreamed of, but being offered a chance to work directly under The Tony Stark, well that just didn't happen. But if he did get it, it would mean he would have to move to New York, leave Scott and Lydia, leave his dad all alone, leave Derek...But they would still be here tomorrow, he reminded himself, and this opportunity wouldn't be. He shoved a finger under the flap and ripped the coarse paper with a swift jerk of his hand.

Stiles had actively been trying to fit the entire contents of his room into a single suitcase for the last three hours, and had finally succeeded, but was now faced with the seemingly impossible task of zipping it up. He was straddling the bright green bag, his right hand gripping the top corner and his left shoved inside the bag to keep his clothes out of the way, and the zipper grasped firmly between his teeth as he jerked his head in an effort to close the bag another inch.

Behind him, he heard the door to his room open. Good, his dad was finally home from work and could help him pack! "A little help here?" he said after he spat out the zipper. When he didn't hear an answer Stiles craned his neck towards the doorway. Instead of his father, he saw the tall, dark form of Derek Hale filling the opening. His heart skipped a beat. Derek was dressed in a simple pair of dark jeans, navy v-neck, and his signature, if not infamous, leather jacket. Stiles had always secretly loved that jacket, It added to the whole "dark and mysterious" vibe Derek seemed to be working so hard to achieve.

Stiles hadn't expected to seed Derek again before he left. He had tried to think up excuses to go see the alpha, but he couldn't come up with anything reasonable. There were no deaths, no wolf crises, nothing that would warrant a visit, no matter how much he wanted to see him. Besides, it's not like Derek would have any reason to want to see him anyway.

Derek looked at the twisted mass of boy and clothes and green on the bed then gave a sad half-smile. "Move" He ordered as he made his way towards the bed. Stiles, who had been stunned into science for a few seconds, regained his composer and rolled off the case.

"What the hell are you doing here? Don't you have better things to do than stalk me? I mean, seriously, if you needed something why didn't you just call one of your pups? I don't live my life solely to serve..."

Stiles drifted off as Derek closed the bag with one hand and sat on the bed. He was looking down at his hands. Stiles couldn't see his face, but he knew something was wrong. The confidence that Derek carried in his shoulders was gone. His posture was meek and withholding, a far cry from the asserting alpha he had grown accustomed to.

"Is something wrong? What happened? Is everyone ok?" Stiles' mind immediately started thinking up scenarios, expecting the worst. Had someone been killed? Was the alpha pack back? Thoughts buzzed around his mind like wasps, resurfacing fears he had pushed down deep into his subconscious. Derek opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak, then changed his mind and closed it again. "what?" Stiles urged, panic rising up through his voice. After a moment, Derek looked up at Stiles. His eyes sad, desperate even. Stiles has never seen him like this before.

"You don't have to go, you know." Derek stated abruptly. "Stay here with the pack, with..." "What?" Stiles said again, only this time it was in disbelief. He stared at the man siting on his bed. Derek had looked so sad and depressed because he didn't want Stiles to leave? Immediately, Stiles felt, immeasurably relieved. Nothing bad was happening. No one was hurt! He let out a deep sigh. But Derek had come in here like the world was imploding and there was nothing anybody could do to stop it, getting Stiles all worked up for no reason. It worried him how quickly he jumped to horrific conclusions lately, but to be fair Derek had ben acting really weird. But why would derek care this much about him leaving?

Derek stood up then, that hard, familiar mask of confidence returned to his face. "Scott and Isaac won't stop complaining to me about it and it's getting on my nerves" Of course, thought Stiles. Derek didn't care, Scott and Isaac were just pressuring him. He couldn't believe he had freaked out so much over nothing. Still...part of him wished, irrationally, that Derek had cared that he was leaving, wished that he had come over and begged him to stay here, with him, forever; that he wanted Stiles like Stiles had wanted him for so long...

"Well, you can tell them to stop bothering me about it. My minds made up. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you would have to be a complete idiot to turn down, which I'm obviously not because I would never have gotten the internship in the first place if I was. Now, you can march your little werewolf ass out of my house so I can finish packing!" During this little speech, Stiles had unknowingly inched closer and closer until only a few inches separated their mouths. Stiles could smell the mint toothpaste on Derek's breath and could hear the slow rhythm of air escaping his chest and then rushing back in, he could feel the heat of Derek's body radiating off him like waves. Stiles' heart began to race, which he knew Derek could hear. This just made him more nervous, crimson splotches appearing on his cheeks. Derek didn't say anything, just looked at him with one eyebrow raised, a look that always made a shiver shoot up Stiles' back.

After a moment, he pushed past Stiles and glided toward the window. Derek gave one last glance back at the boy standing like and idiot in the middle of the room, then disappeared behind the curtain. Stiles stood, frozen in place and gazed at the spot where Derek had stood just a moment before. "Fuck" he breathed to himself, then turned back towards his bed and continued to pack. He made a mental note to yell at Scott later.


	2. Chapter 2

The ticking above his bed was driving him crazy. What in the hell had made him think getting one of those stupid classic looking alarm clocks was a good idea? Oh, yeah. That hot check-out girl in Ikea, that's what. Each second was just loud enough to push him further and further from falling blissfully asleep. He had to be up at 6:30 tomorrow morning to catch his flight. The longer he stayed up, the worse off he would be tomorrow.

He had never been on a plane before. Well, that wasn't technically true, he had flown to his grandmother's funeral in Atlanta when he was five, but, seeing as he was five and had no recollection of that ever actually happening, it didn't count. Actually, this would be the first time he can remember ever being out of the state. He and his dad didn't travel much. "Crime doesn't take a vacation, neither can I" was his dad's motto. It's not like there even was much crime in Beacon Hills, not before, anyway. The idea of him living on his own in New York was exciting, but it also scared him, more than he'd let anyone see. He'd done a lot of research about New York, and although he had assured his dad that it was just as safe as here (not that that was saying much), and agreed to only walk in the daytime and lock all his doors and never take candy from strange men in white van's and everything, he knew it wasn't. The dangers up there weren't supernatural, which meant he had no supernatural protection. No wolf pack, no hunters. Up there, it was strictly crazy people with guns.

But it wasn't just that. There was something else, something so scary and painful he had pushed it to the back of his mind. Now, in the dark, it began to creep up on him again. Derek. He wouldn't have Derek. Sure, he could call or Skype, but they would still be 2,899 miles apart. 2,899 miles would be standing between Stiles and the familiar scent of aftershave and hamburgers, from the his warmth. The thought of this made his throat clench into a knot and a pit form in the middle of his abdomen, sucking in all of his happiness and leaving only the ache of separation. He swallowed the thought back down, pushing it behind flight preparations and last minute packing lists.

Stiles had cleared his mind, finally, but doing so only allowed that damn ticking to bore it's way into his head again. He jumped out of bed, and walked determinedly across the room, towards his desk. He was on a war-path. He grabbed a screwdriver from the top drawer, aggressively removed the batteries from the clock, and threw it's dead carcass at the opposite wall. It hit with a satisfying crunch and landed, broken, on the floor. Stiles fell back into bed, but the absence of the insistent ticking allowed the purring of his fan to become deafening. Loosing his resolve, he shuffled across the hall to the bathroom and downed a dose of nyquil. If that didn't put him to sleep, there was no hope for him. He crawled under the covers, and sure enough, a few minutes later, drifted into a deep sleep.  
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That night he dreamed of Derek. He came in through the window, powerful and fast and graceful, more like a cat that a wolf, Stiles thought. Derek just stood there, by the open window, not saying anything, just taking him in. They stayed like that for a long time. Finally Stile's spoke.

"You came back"

"Of course I did...I had to say goodbye"

"But, you said you didn't care that I was leaving. You..." stiles was cut off by the feel of Derek's mouth on his. He pulled away, wearing that same sad smile as before.

"You are so stupid, stiles" Then Derek melted away, Stiles reached out to the now empty space above him.

"Come back" he whispered. Then the room dissolved away, and he was enveloped in the darkness.  
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A series of five or six loud bangs jolted Stiles awake. His Dad's voice came from the other side of the the door.

"Get up, you're going to be late!"

"I'm up!" Stiles called back from his bed. He heard his dad grumble something under his breath, but he couldn't make it out. Stiles thought of his dream. It was so vivid, so real. His lips still tingled from where they had met with Derek's. Was it a dream? His eye's rifted towards his window. It was shut, just like he had left it. The nyquil must have hit him pretty hard. He sat up, and reached for his phone. What time was it anyway? The block numbers on the screen read 7:00. "Shit!" Stiles practically fell on his face trying to scramble out of bed. He threw on the shirt and pants he had left out and ran downstairs.

The rest of the morning was a blur of loading and unloading luggage and listening to his dad's many lectures on what he should and shouldn't do to avoid getting raped or mugged or whatever. Scott was on a date with Allison, and Derek had gotten the rest of the pack up at four in the morning to do a training session, which basically meant he would beat the shit out of everyone and yell at them to use their senses...whatever that means, so his dad was the only one who had come with him to the airport.

Everyone had sent him texts this morning, though, saying things like "have a safe trip" and "I'll miss you, call me!" or something to that affect. Even people from school he hadn't ever talked to bothered to write something on his facebook wall. It was a nice gesture, but he would bet his jeep that half of them couldn't give a shit about what he did or where he was. He felt like he had died and everyone wanted to prove that they had payed their sentimental dues. His dad had to be at work, so, after many goodbye's and tearful hugs, he made his way through the airport and towards the terminal, towards his future.


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles sat down in the middle of three seats at the very back of the plane. He was kind of disappointed that he didn't get to sit by the window, but the large, greasy man who occupied that seat did not look in the mood to be moved. His phone rang. It was Scott. "Hey, whats up?" Scott's voice was thick with sleep.

"Have you left yet?"

"Nah, I'm on the plane, but it's still loading" A girl sat down in the seat next to him. She looked about his age, long dirty blonde hair fell down her shoulders and she wore a puppy shirt with fireworks in the background.

"Stiles..."

"Look, Scott. I'm going and theres nothing you can say to change my mind"

"No! I was going to say, I'm happy for you. I mean, i'll miss you, but you need to go" The plane had finished boarding and the flight attendants were telling everyone to shut off their electronic devices. Stiles tried to ignore them.

"Oh, thanks. But I don't know why you couldn't have figured this out before you sent Derek over to 'talk' to me"

"what?"

"Don't play dumb. I know you and Isaac were using Derek to intimidate me into staying. You should have known that wouldn't have worked. I'm not scared of Derek...well, maybe just a little, but that would just give me more reason to get the hell out of Beacon Hills. I don't want him to, like, grind my bones to make his bread or whatever he does." The girl gave him a sideways look that clearly showed she thought he was crazy.

"Stiles, I haven't talked to Derek all week" Just then a perky flight attendant with a lopsided bun and a smile that was walking the line between 'the world is a beautiful place full of sunshine and rainbows' and 'I'm going to kill you all while you sleep' leaned over the girl in the puppy shirt and said in a creepily polite voice "sir, you have to turn off all electronic devices, including your cell phone"

"Um...Scott, I have to go. I'll call you when I land" he quickly hung up his phone, so as not to awake the demon that no doubt resided in her bun. Scott's words rolled around his mind. If Scott was telling the truth, that would mean Derek was lying about why he came, which is not completely out of character for him, but then, why would Derek have come over? For a moment, he indulged himself in the idea that, maybe, Derek really had come to 'beg on his knees', but he pushed back those fantasies on favor of the much more probable scenario, Scott was just trying to save face or something. Anyway, it didn't matter anymore. Yeah, he could have had better seats, with less old man BO, buy hey, he was on his way to New fricken' York! He sat back in his chair, and fell asleep to the sound of the safety instructions being regurgitated by the scary lady at the front of the plane.

Stiles woke up about thirty minutes before they landed, and spent that time playing games on his phone and nursing the complementary beverage that had been handed out to him from a tiny cart that the flight attendant was pushing around. Eventually they touched down, and he made his way through the terminal.  
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Stiles was at the end of a long line of students that was snaking in and out of the polished, uptight workers on expensive devices, and high fashion (yet highly impractical) furniture that studded the marble floor. Sleek white walls rose into oblivion, marked only by the crystal staircases that grew from them. Innovative weapons stood on pedestals and in display cases as avant garde sculptures, and holographic blueprints of futuristic landscapes hung like Kandinsky's in the air. If heaven had a place on earth, Stiles thought, it was here.

His hands vibrated in his pockets, eager to touch anything and everything, but he reminded them that he was an adult, trying to get an adult job, and running around like a child at a candy store would not reflect that very well. The glamour of it all distracted him from the thought he had been having all day. "Stiles, I haven't talked to Derek all week" Scott's voice echoed in his mind whenever there was a lag in his brain. But he hadn't thought about Scott or Derek at all since he had entered the Stark building, and he wasn't thinking about them now.

They were led through a maze of hallways and rooms, until the leader, a man tall dressed in a very grey business casual, stopped in front of a relatively plain set of doors in a dimly-lit corner of the Stark Tower. The line of interns folded in on itself to create a pool of eager bodies awaiting instruction. Stiles stayed at the back of the group, observing. The man's voice filled the air, loud, flat, and mildly disinterested.

"My name is Dr. Ryce. You will call me Dr. Ryce, not 'Mr. Ryce' not 'the Ryce man' not 'white Ryce', no clever varriant on my name you spent the past twenty minutes thinking up in an attempt to brown-nose me into propelling you forward on your journey of self fulfillment. Is that understood? Now, you received letters confirming your position for an internship here. All thirty of you dewy-eyed children came here expecting to have the doors of opportunity opened before you so you could skip off into the sunset. Unfortunately for twenty-nine or you poor souls, there is only one position. You will all be participating in a set of various tests designed by The Tony Stark himself. He will review your performance and, at the end select a victor. Let the games begin"


End file.
